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Time Lord Biology


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Hi! First time posting after a very long time of lurking, so apologies in advance for any formatting issues (I really hope I've created the topic right in the first place).

Basically, I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to try to pee for the first time in an entirely new body. Plus, for how long it's been around, there's almost no Doctor Who omo fiction. It's a crime. Hopefully I can help with that a bit. This contains a lot of extreme desperation, unrealistic bladder sizes, and a little bit of friendship comfort.

—————

Yaz knew the Doctor was not one to take care of herself.

She’d avoid sleep until they found her unconscious, slumped over her console. She’d forget to eat until one of them shoved something into her hand and then suddenly she was ravenous, devouring whatever it was and seeking more immediately. Even with water, she could sometimes go days without drinking, till her lips went dry and cracked.

But Yaz didn’t think the Doctor avoided any other bodily functions. That was, until the day she saw her laugh.

The Doctor was relatively somber, despite all her curiosity and energy. But when she laughed, like really laughed, she threw her whole body into it, leaning backwards to the point of almost toppling over. It didn’t happen often. But one day, some time after she and Ryan and Graham had decided to continue traveling with her, Yaz watched the Doctor lean with her laugh, and noticed a big, swollen bulge on her lower abdomen.

She normally wouldn’t have said anything. Chances were it was a big meal or simply some weight gain, and there was nothing wrong with either of those. But Yaz watched as the Doctor froze halfway through her lean and then jetted forwards, leaning back over herself with the tiniest wince. And a hand pressed to the lower part of the bulge, cupping it. Protecting it.

It was then that Yaz began to wonder whether the Doctor needed to pee.

A few more days passed, and Yaz kept an eye out. She knew Time Lord biology was wild, so different from human and yet so similar at the same time. So a theory began to rise in her mind that maybe they expelled liquid waste the same way, but simple needed to do it far less frequently. If she was right, she figured the bulge would deflate and the Doctor would be back to her buoyant self within a day or two.

That didn’t happen. The bulge remained, pressing against the front of what had once been fashionably baggy pants, forcing them taut. The comparison between the thrift store and now was stark, the Doctor’s original body tiny and with barely any extra meat at all, the fabric originally hanging loose around her. And again, Yaz considered the fact that she had simply gained a few well-needed pounds. But to have them all gather in the exact same spot? To create a belly bulge, and nothing else?

Instead of improving, the situation only seemed to get worse. The Doctor went from not really having any external symptoms, to shifting erratically back and forth on her feet as she stood. She suddenly couldn’t be in one place for very long without squatting down or crossing her legs. Yaz watched once as she whirled from a conversation into the relative darkness of a nearby room, only to shuffle about and maybe, just maybe grab herself between her legs before rejoining them.

It could no longer be ignored after one of their adventures found Yaz and the Doctor bound to chairs, waiting for the boys to rescue them. Hands tied behind their backs, and legs tied apart to the chair legs. And the Doctor absolutely could not stand it.

She writhed in place, yanking at her restraints, fanning her legs in and out from pure desperation. She muttered to herself and held her breath, her face contorting as (Yaz assumed) her bladder spasmed and she was unable to do anything about it, thighs shaking and hands behind her back clenched into fists. 

When the boys finally showed up, they got the Doctor free first before turning their attention to Yaz. That’s why she was the only one to watch as the Doctor rocketed up and out of her chair and shoved both hands into her crotch, gasping as she twisted her legs around her fingers. She glanced up and, for just a moment, locked eyes with Yaz. Then Ryan was turning to make sure she was okay, and she snapped to attention, back straight, arms by her sides. Bladder bulge more prominent than ever.

Yaz wandered into the console room that night determined to handle the situation. The Doctor was leaning over some below-deck mechanic, muttering to herself and yanking at it. And as Yaz watched, the Doctor let out a hiss of pain and crossed her legs, curtsying just a bit.

Yaz winced and paused, suddenly embarrassed. What was she doing, trying to mother a thousands year old alien? If the Doctor was avoiding weeing for some reason, well, that was her business. But then the alien cradled her bladder in one hand and let out a low moan, and Yaz knew she couldn’t ignore her friend being in pain anymore. She stepped forward.

—————

The Doctor hadn’t been planning for it to get this bad. She hadn’t been planning for it to get bad at all; her species did everything more efficiently than humans, and it wasn’t till they were stuck in Montgomery that she’d felt the urge to run to the loo at all. And she’d even gone into the bathroom at one point during the night while her friends were sleeping. She’d stood in front of the toilet. Stood, and stared as anxiety began to claw its way into her chest. Scoffed at herself, took another step towards the toilet and went to pull herself out. Then realized fully how much she’d changed, and been totally unable to do it. Something inside her shut down; every body was always new, but this was too new, too soon and too much. She couldn’t handle it. Instead, she simply washed her hands and left.

She did some quick maths lying in bed next to Yaz, Graham and Ryan sharing the other. Her people ate, drank, and slept rarely, and she had a terrible habit of putting them all off even more than usual. She hadn’t had much to drink at all since she’d changed (presumably she started each life with an empty bladder? Even she wasn’t sure how that worked). So, she figured, she could easily hold it until she’d gotten the humans back home. It wasn’t even that bad yet. A little sensitive, throbbing at her a bit if she bent over, bringing a wince to her face as she leapt from the water tank after confronting Krasko. But nothing urgent, nothing she couldn’t ignore after just a moment of pressing her thighs together. And once she was alone on her TARDIS, she could handle the situation with as little grace and as much clumsy, awkward testing as she wanted to. She’d been naked and covered in piss in front of her ship before, she was sure this wouldn’t be the last time either. 

Turned out she didn’t want the humans to leave. And then, to her delight, they didn’t want to leave either. She was so elated she managed to force herself to forget about the ache in her belly till they woke up on the Tsuranga.

She came back to consciousness and suddenly had four extra days worth of urine in her already overfilled bladder, and the fall to the floor after her legs gave out shuddered through her and made her gasp, pressing her thighs together, lost suddenly in a rolling wave of total urgency, of ‘get up and run’ levels of needing to pee. But she did what she did best and ignored it, shoved the throbbing to the back of her mind.

Astos even tried to tell her during his speech on how she was still his patient. “And beyond your injury, you didn’t release any urine at all while you were unconscious, and from the looks of your scans you must badly need to-”

“Ah!” She’d interrupted, raising one hand into the air between them and trying not to twist her hips at the reminder. “Don’t like being told what to do.”

He’d given her a funny look and glanced down at the already forming bulge in her stomach. And she knew he’d think there was something medical, like maybe she couldn’t wee, and he’d try to talk to her about it or deal with it once they figured out what the hell had just gotten onto the ship.

But he’d died, so she hadn’t had to deal with it then either. 

It almost turned into a pride contest with herself, after that. If she was in a new body and something made her uncomfortable, why bother with it at all? She would not give in to some archaic bodily function that, frankly, her species would have evolved out entirely generations ago if they didn’t live such long lives.

So she ignored it, and ignored it and ignored it, until it grew from annoyance to urgency to constant pain. This new body hadn’t been good at standing still anyways, but she found herself physically unable to. The red hot rolling waves of pain in her stomach forced her into little dances, shuffling back and forth in front of a monitor, wincing and crossing her legs as a particularly bad urge crashed through. She twisted and bounced on the balls of her feet, rolled back on her heels, anything to distract her body from the bulging, aching ball of liquid in her stomach.

The fam hadn’t noticed, she didn’t think, but she couldn’t quite be sure. It was distracting, having to pee so badly she could barely think. Wanting to nothing more than curl up in a ball on the floor, legs crossed and grinding against her hand, against the edge of the console, anything to help her hold, to make the pain die back just a little bit. 

One night she gave in to a stupid urge. She was standing while her friends slept, trying to run some tests on the TARDIS’s internal functions, but nothing interesting was popping up, nothing was there to distract her. And the urge was so bad. It was eating away at her, throwing her thoughts into random scattered fragments buried between screams of ‘I have to pee, I have to pee, I have to pee so badly I have to pee right now’, and suddenly the railing along the stairs towards the living quarters looked very appealing. She barely thought about it before she was throwing one leg over the side and grinding down slowly, gasping as her bladder, so swollen it got in the way, squished itself against the bar. She got the littlest relief and almost some pleasure as well, riding the bar for a minute or two. But as it helped her urge die down and her mind cleared a bit, she felt herself go bright red. What was she doing? She was an adult, she could hold it as long as she needed to and she could do it without dry humping some metal bar. But God, the constant pressure against her crotch felt so good.

She swung her legs back and had to double over immediately, her bladder extremely unhappy with the extra movement, knees wiggling in front of each other as she tried not to leak. But she had it under control, she did. She wasn’t going to wet herself like a child. She was going to somehow overcome her fear and go to the toilet like an adult. As long as she could shift and dance and hop and grab, she could manage it.

Then the next day came, and with it that damned hostage situation, her legs tied apart, Yaz sitting next to her. And she couldn’t stop moving.

Her bladder was pulsing, throbbing, so full she thought it might rip out of her skin, and her legs were forced apart, she couldn’t even press them together discreetly, or kneel down pretending to grab something but really just to sit on her heel, grinding on it for just one second of relief. It had been weeks, ages, since she’d gone to the toilet  - technically she had never once been to the toilet - and she thought she was going to go mad, her brain practically floating in piss. She was sure that if she looked at herself in the mirror the whites of her eyes would’ve gone yellow.

She squeezed her knees together and fanned them apart, trying desperately to get any kind of contact, any little pressure that would help the spasming pain. She knew it was obvious, knew she was doing practically the textbook definition of a human toddler’s potty dance, knew her bladder was bulging out like a basketball, huge and obscene and so, so painful, so urgent, she needed to wee and she needed to do it right now or else it was gonna run down her legs in a second-

The door burst in and the boys appeared, and they headed for her first. And she was so relieved that, as they finally released her legs, a burst of hot warmth exploded into her pants. She gasped and slammed her now free legs together, squirming, wriggling, until they turned and focused on Yaz and then she practically threw herself out of her chair, going mad with the desperate need to pee, need to pee, need to pee, it wasn’t just going to be one leak if she didn’t do something right now. And, losing all of her composure, she shoved her hands between her legs and squeezed. 

The impending doom faded slowly, her angry, pulsing hot bladder subdued as she ground herself against her own palms, trying to cross her legs at the same time and gasping with that tiny bit of relief. But the ache was still there, that terrible fullness that just wouldn’t leave. Pressure and heat and pain, all burning in her abdomen and screaming at her to just do it, just release, wee all over yourself who cares, but she couldn’t. The thought of relief almost made her gag, she was so desperate, but she just could not let herself go in her pants. She pulled one hand free and cradled her bladder again, as if she could hold up its massive, bulging weight, begging it to forgive her, to settle down and bear with her for just a few more minutes. And she glanced over at Yaz. Who was watching her, eyes wide. Seeing her entire display.

Shit.

She forced herself to stand up straight and managed it, forced herself not to squirm and somehow managed that too, if only for a few minutes. Could feel how tight her pants were around her bladder, digging in and squeezing and making everything worse. 

She got back to the TARDIS on shaky legs, twisting hips and as discreet as she could managed grabs to her crotch. But Yaz caught her once more, wincing, one hand finding its way between her legs, only to reroute when she noticed her audience and scratched at her thigh instead, riding through the waves of desperation crashing against her sphincter with no help at all. And Yaz didn’t say a word, just went to bed with the other two. 

And so she stood, alone, in the console room. Fidgeting, squirming, thinking that if she moved she might leak again. All she had to do was walk - or, it would more likely be a hobble at this point - down the hall to where she knew there was a loo, and all she had to do was sit down, she knew that’s how it worked, but-

That same anxiety that plagued her now, that was practically ruining her life, crashed through her. She couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t. Today was stressful enough anyway. Just- she just needed to make it till tomorrow, through one more night of fighting back the torturous waves of pressure, the aching, burning spasms, and then she would… figure something else out. Maybe she could invent something, some kind of fluid transporter, that would drain even just the littlest bit of the ocean in her bladder so that she could hold longer until she figured it out. She leaned forward into the console and twisted her legs together as her bladder screamed a complaint again with the movement, moaning out loud and cradling her stomach again as if it would do anything, because the only thing that would actually help would be to-

“Doctor?”

She yelped and leapt back, almost slamming her head on one of the controls, and stiffening as another leak escaped her. This one started as a hot burst, her burning urethra and aching bladder shrieking at her to just release but she clenched, crossed her legs and leaned into them too hard to be casual, and the burst died down, but it did not stop. It trickled, and kept trickling as she looked up at Yaz with what she was sure was a wild and manic grin and said “hey! What’s up, you okay?”

Yaz shrugged and tilted her head, looking at her funny, and with an extra twist of her leg, almost going triple crossed, the Doctor finally managed to stop the leak. Her face burned and she dreaded the moment when she’d be able to get a look at her pants. She was sure there would be a spot.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Yaz said, speaking slowly, and the urgency pounding in the Doctor’s bladder made her mean as her hips shifted, her feet shuffling. Come on, come on, get it out, just say what you need to say. “Are you, though?”

“Course I’m okay, I’m always okay.” Now leave before I burst.

“It’s just… do you need the loo, Doctor?”

The blush that spread across her cheeks was almost warmer than the fresh leak of piss that burst into her pants, and without being able to fight it, completely and totally at the end of her rope but still trying so hard to hold on, the Doctor whimpered and fell towards the console to rest on her elbows, twisting her legs together again. She had to pee so badly she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t, she just couldn’t do it, she just needed more time-

A hand on the small of her back. “Hey, it’s alright. Just waited too long, yeah? It happens. I can help you get there,” Yaz said, her voice low and soothing and so kind that the Doctor wanted to cry all over again. And the shame, burning in her like her bulging, furious bladder, because-

“No,” she said, her voice strangled and desperate, “no, I’m fine. I can hold it.” She finished the sentence almost in a whisper, bending even farther and trying so hard not to hold herself again in front of her friend.

“I really don’t think you can,” Yaz said, unable to hide the amusement in her voice. “And even if you could it can’t be healthy, your bladder is distended, Doctor, I can see it.” The hand not rubbing soothing circles on the Doctor’s back moved towards the terrible sensitive bulge in her bladder and the Doctor gasped, jerking away from it and springing another leak. She whined miserably, and finally gave in, shoving her hands into her crotch and pressing so hard she thought she might go numb.

“No, I- I can’t, it’s not-” She was shaking like a leaf, and the leak was still trickling, she could feel the wetness on her hands now and she knew her pants would be soaked, knew it would be humiliating and she couldn’t even get relief out of it because there was no way for her to just let go.

“Why don’t you want to go? You’re in pain!” Yaz asked, and the Doctor lifted her chin to make eye contact. She could almost see her own desperate face reflected back in Yaz’s wide, sad eyes.

“I… I haven’t yet as… I haven’t gone to the loo with this…” she moved one hand out to gesture at herself and then winced as the trickle burst again, forcing her to her knees and onto her heel as she ground down and finally managed to stop it for real. She’d gotten no relief out of any of her leaks, just burning shame and false hope for her poor bursting bladder, filled past the brim and trying so desperately to force itself back into a normal shape.

It dawned on Yaz as the Doctor hunched over herself again, moaning and wriggling and trying to grind on her heel and hold herself at the same time. “You said you used to be a man. You haven’t gone yet as a woman?”

The Doctor shook her head, trying to blink away the tears of desperation.

“No wonder you’re so desperate then,” Yaz murmured, her voice back to that warm, kind tone, but the Doctor could barely hear her. She wasn’t going to last much longer. Her next leak might not be stoppable. “So you put it off because it was new?” Her hand was on the side of the Doctor’s face now, still soothing and warm, and she couldn’t help but lean into it.

“I’m nervous,” she said softly, even as she still squirmed, her hands clenched into fists. “I- I put it off because I was nervous, and now it’s too much, I can’t move.”

“It must really hurt.”

The Doctor practically sobbed. “It does, it hurts so bad, I can’t stand it- I just need to-”

Very slowly, Yaz was shifting her hands down the Doctor’s arms till she was holding her wrists. “Up on three. Okay?”

Whimpering, shifting around on her own heel, the Doctor looked up into kind brown eyes again and nodded.

“One… two… three.”

Somehow, she didn’t burst when she stood, twisting her legs together again and leaning heavily on her friend. They took slow, steady steps, and with each thump of her foot onto the ground, the Doctor felt just a bit more wee leak from her, till her dark blue pants were practically black and glistening to her knees. And finally Ya was opening the door to the loo, pulling her through, and standing her in front of the toilet.

The sight left her with only the barest thread of control, pee escaping in a tiny but steady trickle, and the Doctor froze, staring at it, unable to move.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I won’t leave you alone,” Yaz said, sliding her coat off of her shoulders and past her clenched fists. She moved her hands gently, slowly, and slid the Doctor’s braces off of her shoulders and down to hang by her waist. Then she pulled down her pants, and the cold air on the Doctor’s legs took away every last molecule of self restraint. Her bladder would not wait or hold on for another moment. In a terrible,involuntary, burning gush, she began pushing pee full force down her legs and onto the floor.

The Doctor gasped out loud and collapsed back onto the open toilet, bursting everywhere, streams pattering onto the floor before hissing loudly into the toilet, frothing like a waterfall. And finally, the pain she had been living with for weeks began to lift.

“Oh,” she moaned, too ecstatic off of relief to be embarrassed at how high and breathy her voice had gone. “Oh, Yaz, that- ah…- that feels incredible, oh my God.”

And it did, the cursed yellow liquid finally streaming out of her, the pain lifting and replaced with an incredible, aching emptiness, the lack of discomfort so new to her that she felt like she might pass out. She leaned against the back of the toilet and let her head fall backwards, toes curling in her wet boots, panting and moaning without shame as she finally, finally peed, cascading yellow pain into the toilet in a torrential downpour.

She kept moaning between trying to catch her breath, cracking open one eye to watch as her bladder slowly deflated, it’s massive ballooning size shrinking down and down as chills of pleasure wracked her body. She shuddered, almost stopped weeing for a second and then pushed and burst with even more strength, sure she would damage the inside of the bowl with the force of it.

Yaz chuckled above her. “You really needed that, didn’t you.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice still up in the air and her eyes practically rolling back in her head. “Yeah, I… oh…”

It took several long minutes for her stream to slow and then, eventually, stop. At one point she thought she was empty, only for it to start back up again, only dribbling out of her at this point, the last of the liquid being haphazardly shoved out by her exhausted muscles. When it finally ended, she shifted forward so that her head was resting on Yaz’s abdomen, who still stood before her and began playing with her hair soothingly.

“Feel better, Doctor?”

“Hngg…” she barely managed, breathing slowing and hearts coming back towards a normal rhythm. The space between her legs was sore and stretched, aching, but so blessedly empty. She didn’t think she’d ever felt as empty before in all of her lives. And for the first time in so long, she was comfortable again. She’d almost forgotten what being comfortable felt like.

Yaz laughed again. “Well, good. I’m gonna step out and let you hop in the shower, yeah? And no more waiting this long. You’ve done it, you’re used to the toilet now. Don’t put yourself through that again.”

The Doctor laughed herself and smiled up at her friend, scrunching up her nose. “Yeah, guess it wasn’t that bad in the end.”

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  • 4 weeks later...
  • 4 weeks later...
On 10/31/2019 at 7:55 AM, holdit247 said:

Brilliant, especially as I had Jodie Whittaker in mind throughout 😉

when she started as the doctor i was SURE the doctor who omo community would explode, she's so beautiful and i love imagining her desperate. but if i have to be the one to do it, so be it then. thanks for the feedback, stay tuned for more very soon 🙂

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Thanks for the lovely feedback! 

I'm obsessed with the 13th doctor, and I had a few more ideas, so I'm turning this into a much longer story that will come out in chapters. I’m planning on starting it out as if it’s happening during the show and then deviating, and it’s all just going to be omo based scenes between the Doctor and Yaz and maybe sometimes Ryan as well. Let me know if you have any ideas/prompts! Plan on a very random update schedule lol

Hope you enjoy and I appreciate you taking the time to read!

Chapter 2


She thought she'd been taken the fam to a historic coronation. But some weird little town in the past could be fun too, the Doctor supposed. Her friends were teasing her for her driving skills again, but she knew it wasn't quite what they thought. It wasn't that she didn't have control over her ship. It was just that she had to pee so badly she could barely think straight.

Yes, she had been putting it off again, not that she would admit it to Yaz. After her semi-humiliating show absolutely bursting in front of the young girl a few weeks prior, the Doctor wasn’t keen on repeating the incident. But, at the same time, something deep and buried inside her longed to.

After finally peeing for the first time, after showering and apologizing to Yaz and thanking her for her help, she’d found herself alone in her bed, so blissfully empty and so distant from any pain. And so, so horny. She’d barely been able to think through it, let alone resist shoving her hand down her own pants and getting off once, then again, and then a third time, her other fist clenching into the sheets, her head thrown back in ecstasy, thinking about that incredible moment of relief, the warmth that had spread through her limbs, the way she’d been able to see herself deflate.

She’d heard before, from River in passing, that sometimes a full bladder made everything down there tighter, better, hotter. She hadn’t really understood it at the time, with very different plumbing and no personal experience from the other side. But now she got it. As the pain had faded, she’d been left with an aching desire, an incredible urge to grab Yaz and drag her back to the bedroom.

She’d resisted. But she’d also decided she needed to do some further investigating. 

Obviously, her first step was to avoid going to the bathroom. Not quite as extensively as the last time, not to the same extreme. She’d just waited till she was full, hurting just a little, needing but not dying for the loo. Tapping her feet and twisting her hips, breathing quick through her teeth when the pressure in her belly got to be a bit too much, pressing her knees together. Standing on the Kerblam assembly line and not being able to resist shifting from one foot to the other, urgency pounding in her brain but not emergency, nothing she was worried about losing control of.

If Yaz noticed the way she had to cross her legs while giving her speech to Charlie, she didn't say anything, bless her heart. If she noticed at all, she probably thought the Doctor was just being absentminded again. 

When they got back and Yaz asked to go visit the daughter of the man who had saved her, the Doctor was almost tempted to say no. Not because she didn’t care, and not because Yaz’s teary eyes didn’t make her chest ache in sympathy. Just because of a very different ache in her bladder, one that had gotten that "within view of the toilet" level of throbbing urgency. She gave in and waited for them on the ship, rolling up onto her toes and back down, pacing back and forth, letting the humans have their moment but man did she need a wee. Bad enough to have to resist the urge to hunch over, to have to resist the urge to hold herself and hobble around. But not bad enough that she was actually forced to take any drastic measures. But the rules she hadn't quite set listed themselves out in her brain: their adventure wasn't over till the humans had gone to bed. Therefore, she didn't get to pee until the humans had gone to bed.

Finally it was all over and her friends disappeared to their rooms, and she barely let the door close behind them before she took off, fleeing to the loo. She threw off her braces and yanked her pants down and collapsed onto the toilet but held back, shoving one hand between her thighs, rubbing her swollen clit and groaning and trying not to press her legs together, trying not to leak into her own hand, until she came, so strong and hard that she saw stars and thought she might pass out. When her vision cleared she had already exploded and was weeing, hard, and she almost came again from the sensation of relief alone.

It was so good it almost made her mad that her system took so long to fill up. She’d have to wait ages to get to a good level again, and she only seemed able to hold it through one orgasm. So, she decided, if she only got one every couple of weeks, she’d make it the best orgasm every single time. She’d hold till there was piss coming out of her ears. If something was so pleasurable, taking it a little bit further couldn’t be too bad, could it?

And so she found herself almost two weeks into another hold, well past where she’d gotten to at Kerblam. Edging into dangerous territory, because she couldn’t quite stand still anymore. Still not as bad as it had been right before her first pee ever in this body, but pretty bad. A constant chant to herself in the back of her mind, a constant searing heat in her stomach.

She needed to pee desperately, almost to the point where she wouldn’t be able to hide it. But it only really sunk in when she spotted the child offering apple bobbing and decided to have a go, plunging her face into the freezing cold water.

It was like a stab to her bladder, and she let out a burst of surprised bubbles as she slammed her legs together, hands clenching into fists behind her back.

Like a light switch being flicked on, she went from sure she could manage to very much in trouble. In her half focused, arousal clouded plan, she'd stood that morning stepping in place in front of her mirror with one hand in her crotch, letting herself show obvious signs of desperation while she was along, and decided to wait yet another day or two. She knew that it would be painful but didn't expect it to be exactly hard. But now, with her bladder pressing down and down, an urgent hot mass in her stomach, her confidence in herself wavered. It collapsed fully as she did something she hadn't been forced to do since learning how to wee in her new body. She shifted her legs so one was casually crossed over the other, squeezing, and knew she wouldn't last. Urgency throbbed in her gut, and if her face hadn't been underwater she'd have been flushing and groaning.

She needed a toilet, and she needed it as quickly as possible. If she didn’t pee soon, things were going to get out of hand. But nothing ever really went as planned. The universe had other things in mind for her.

Maybe it was adrenaline that let her swim through the lake without bursting. Whatever it was, it wore off by the time she stood to face Becka, water trickling down her in teasing, cold lines, torturing her bladder. As she rummaged through her coat to grab her psychic paper she shifted from foot to foot, stepping in place, and had to force herself not to break into a outright potty dance. She wasn't sure if admitting it to herself made it better or worse. It meant she could find comfort in the little efforts she made to hold it, 

She watched Yaz head back to the village and sucked air in through her teeth, jealous. Yaz would be heading down to loads of houses, which all had outhouses, where Yaz could at any time decide to go and relieve herself at the drop of a hat. She wouldn't even have to think about it. As Yaz walked away she glanced back over her shoulder, and the Doctor quickly untangled her legs and smiled, pressing her lips together. Yaz raised an eyebrow, but continued.

The Doctor squirmed and tapped her foot and faced the manor they were headed to. Something inside her, the bit not clouded by lust or by the severity of her need to pee, told her that she could always just go in the manor. They'd have chamber pots somewhere. But she grimaced and banished the thought. No way would she be asking Becka to pop off to her loo. That would be humiliating, to admit that kind of weakness and to give into her urge and gain nothing for it. To miss out on the incredible orgasm she knew was waiting for her at the end of this hold. And besides, their chamber pots were only built for human bladders. If the bulge in her belly was any indication, she'd overflow three of them before she finished.

Standing in the cold, with maddening drips still trickling down her and reminding her so vividly of another trickle she’d love to let out, she gritted her teeth and let herself go for one good, quick squeeze to her crotch when nobody was watching. At this point, it didn’t matter that she felt like she was about to positively burst. Until she solved this whole witch business and got herself back to the TARDIS, she had no other choice. She'd just have to hold. 

The warmth of the fire helped a bit, as did the frustrating distraction of King James showing up. But as soon as she had a moment to think, her desperation clawed its way back to the front of her consciousness. It had gotten exponentially worse since the lake. She couldn’t tell if it had already been this bad and she just hadn’t noticed, or if maybe her kidneys had been kicked into overdrive when she hit the water, but her urgency was growing fast. It very suddenly felt like she was absolutely exploding, fit to burst, and when she managed to glance at her reflection in a window she could see her bulge now, visible again and pushing against her pants, huge and sensitive. If the King got a good look at her he'd probably assume she was pregnant. And when she grabbed the boys and snuck off to do some snooping, she slipped into a hidden part of the room and grabbed herself with both hands, her knees caving inwards and her fingers pressing up against her crotch, biting her lip to stifle a moan.

Even as Graham asked her something she pretended to be normal, pretended to be searching for evidence of whatever was going on. But the whole time she was hunched over, holding herself up with one hand on the wall and the other burying between her legs. She swayed back and forth, bobbed up and down as if that might help, and did rifle through a few drawers but the whole time kept her hand in place, her aching, bursting bladder screaming at her. This was bad, she realized as a particularly rough throb forced her to double over, twisting her legs around each other. Very bad. She was rapidly approaching the end of her rope.

It didn’t help when Yaz burst through the door, startling her, and she felt her first leak break through her iron hold.

She turned from her fam and pressed a fist into her crotch, cradling her bladder with her other hand, for just a moment. And again it settled into her exactly how dire her situation was as her body positively shrieked at her to keep going, to burst into her pants and get it over with. To tilt her head back and sigh and just let it flow. The boys wouldn’t even judge her, probably. They might be a bit confused or think something was wrong with her. But they’d help her hide it from Yaz if she asked. Which might have been essential at this point, because she was pretty sure Yaz had noticed the way her body had jerked when she'd leaked.

She didn’t let go, of course. She was the Oncoming Storm. She clenched with everything she had and removed her press against herself, turning back to face her friends and pretend she was fine. Yaz was eyeing her again, her gaze flickering down to the snitch of a bulge in the Doctor's belly and then back up to her face, but her expression was smooth, hard to read. The Doctor couldn't bring it in herself to care, too much of her brain focused on holding. She’d wet herself once in this body and that was enough.

The universe tried her, again and again. Startled her into a cross-legged stance by bringing in mud zombies, new warmth tempting her in her crotch, angered her into another leak when she was called a witch and captured. And she squirmed for hours, tied to that tree, fanning her legs in and out. It was so frustrating, because she was finally alone and she was absolutely dying to pee, and if she hadn't been tied up she could be holding herself, or grinding into the edge of her seat, or even actually letting herself wee behind a bush. But she couldn't do any of those things. All she could do was keep holding.

It built and built within her, hot and screaming and torturous, desperate, pressing. She had to pee so badly she could barely stand it, all she wanted to do was pee. The ache was so bad she could practically taste it. She considered wetting herself when King James came to tease her, just to see what he’d do if she burst, let it flood down her legs as she threw her head back in ecstasy, moaning. At that mental image she had to grit her teeth and fan her knees again, a whine caught in her throat, shifting around, hoping he was too sexist to even notice her body language. Because if he did try to read her at all, she was absolutely shrieking about how badly she had to pee.

Her downfall came when she was plunged into the lake for the second time.

Truth be told, she needed to pee so badly that she barely heard what they were saying as they sentenced her, shifting back and forth, back and forth, desperate for any kind of pressure or friction.Wriggling, hoping she looked like she was just trying to escape the restraints, she glanced back up at Becka one more time, opened her mouth to protest or to try to talk her way out of it or maybe to scream to the world that she was going to piss herself if they didn't let her go. And then she was flying down, hitting the water with a crash and a terrible freezing cold burn.

Air wasn’t a problem. With her respiratory bypass she could go several minutes before her lungs would even hurt. But the second she touched the water again, her bladder clenched, spasmed, and began to claw at her, barely contained.

She had seconds, if anything, before she wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore. Her bladder bulged out against her pants and her restraints, huge and painful, and she couldn’t quite get her legs to press together. She was aching, bursting, she could feel her pee just barely contained and so ready to come out but she clenched with everything she had and held it, forced herself not to let go as she struggled from the restraints, swimming with only her legs to the surface as she squeezed herself desperately. She just had to get out of the water, had to get back up onto dry land where she could hold herself properly and not be soaking in freezing cold torture, and she’d be able to stand it.

But as she got to shore, crawling on her hands and knees, she lost the very last of her self control. Any sense was drowned out by the rushing of the water going past her, and she broke, her bladder giving up. A burning hot leak burst its way into her pants, lasting much longer than any of the others, and her vision went unfocused, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her bladder was still screaming, wanted her to just let go so badly, and she couldn’t resist it anymore. 

“Sod it,” she murmured, biting her lip and shifting backwards so her abdomen squished into itself, compressing her bulge, and let go. “Oh, finally,” she gasped as the dam broke, pee cascading through her already soaked pants. Relief began to build in her and she ached with it, loving the sensation of relief that was coming over her, horny as anything and desperate to rub one out later while she thought about this.

Then, she heard Yaz.

“You burst, didn’t you?”

Her head jerked up and she tried to cut off her stream. Nobody else was around, she supposed the boys must still be talking to the King. But Yaz had come to find her and had caught her wetting herself again. Her cheeks went red with humiliation. “No!” she gasped, but couldn’t control the way her voice had gone all high pitched and breathy again, couldn’t stop herself from shaking with relief. “What, no, I- I’m fine, just-”

Yaz gazed down with wide, curious eyes. “Yes you did. You’ve had to pee for days and you couldn’t hold it anymore. I saw you crossing your legs earlier."

The Doctor tried to stop peeing, tried to hold it in, her thighs quivering with effort. She tried to come up with an excuse or to hide it, but the sound of her pee rushing from her was thundering, and she barely stuttered her way into an explanation before she finally just gave in. “I- no, I- just give me a minute,” she moaned, slumping forward to rest her forehead on the ground, relief and pleasure and embarrassment building and building within her, her legs soaked and hot contrasting against the freezing cold of the air. She let herself groan out loud, curled her toes, squeezed her hands into fists. If Yaz wasn’t there she would be rocking back even further on her hips, trying to jam a heel underneath herself so she could grind against it as she peed. Stars pricked at the edges of her vision as she gasped for breath, panting, not from being underwater at all.

“Having fun?” Yaz asked, a hint of humor in her voice, and when the Doctor managed to get her muscles to cooperate long enough to look back up at her, she was smirking. "You look like you're enjoying yourself."

“It… feels good to let it out,” the Doctor rasped, her voice hoarse. “You were right, I've- ngh- I've needed to go for awhile.”

“Apparently,” Yaz agreed, and something darker that made lust twist even tighter in the Doctor’s core flickered across her face. She stepped forward and crouched down so they were almost eye to eye. “Now stop.”

She hadn’t been able to stop before. But something in her tone made the Doctor gasp and shove one hand between her legs, clenching as hard as she could, cutting herself off mid stream. She couldn’t keep from whining through gritted teeth as she did, her bladder furious and pounding against it's exit, aghast at having relief ripped out from under her. She'd gotten quite a bit of pee out, could see it puddling all around her. But her bladder was cavernous, could hold liters, and she was far from empty. It still thudded in her belly, dull and painful.

It took her piss-addled brain a minute to catch up with the fact that she’d mindlessly obeyed a command to stop peeing, and that she should probably respond to it. "What do you mean?" she whispered, squirming.

Yaz raised an eyebrow. "You enjoy it. You held way past what any normal person would do when I found you in the console room awhile ago. And you needed to pee at Kerblam too, but I thought it was just a genuine bit of waiting too long. But you do this on purpose, don’t you?"

"I-"

"You like it," Yaz said, and there it was again, that confidence in her voice that had made the Doctor immediately obey her command to stop peeing. Her crotch was on fire, her head swimming, and she wasn't sure if it was from her still achingly desperate need to pee or from arousal as Yaz settled back on her heels and looked down at her. "It turns you on. It turns me on too, seeing you like this."

The Doctor opened her mouth to protest, but couldn't quite find the words. "...apparently," she said finally, mimicking Yaz’s words, trying to sound smart and clever but failing, and then winced as her bladder spasmed, a wave of desperation flowing over her, and she twisted so that her knees were crossed, shoved one in front of the other. "But I really need to go, Yaz, I'm so desperate, I can't hold it-"

"Of course you can," Yaz scoffed. "You can, and you will. Because from now on you don't get to pee unless I say so."

The Doctor's mouth fell open in a gasp, lust twisting and coiling in her core, and Yaz took her chance. She grabbed the Doctor by her braces and yanked her up and forward, and kissed her hungrily. One of her hands snaked between them and she pressed her fingers up against the seam of the Doctor's pants. She whimpered into Yaz's mouth, not sure if she wanted her to help her hold or help her come, squirming, desperate for both, grinding down against her firm, strong hand and gasping with relief and with lust.

They broke apart, both panting, and Yaz grinned at her as she winced and grabbed herself again, squeezing her eyes shut through another hot pulse in her bladder. "Go do what you do best and fix this situation. We can talk about whether you get to finish your wee after."

Bursting at the seams, unbelievably turned on, holding herself with both hands and kneeling in a puddle of her own piss, the Doctor hesitated for only a moment. And then she nodded. She’d be distracted, barely able to think, her mind clouded with lust and with the still throbbing, angry bladder pulsing inside her. It was more manageable than before, she didn't feel on the edge of losing it, but it hurt, her body teased into thinking the struggle was over and now back to-

“Answer me out loud,” Yaz commanded, and the Doctor shivered, clenched and bent forward, chills running up her spine.

"Yes. I only pee when you tell me I can. Yes ma'am."

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